The Demon babysitter calls the Angelic hotline for help!

Lucian Dunkelheit had killed kings, corrupted politicians, and watched empires burn—all without breaking a sweat. But this… this was pure torture.

He scowled down at the tiny human wriggling in the crib, her face red and scrunched as if the world itself had betrayed her. Aurelia Vulpea, the last of the billion-dollar Vulpea dynasty, was the reason he hadn't left this cursed mansion the moment the family met their tragic end. Instead, he was stuck. Trapped. All because of one damned contract.

The mansion stood eerily silent, its sprawling halls echoing with the absence of life. The family's absence. Three days ago, the headlines had blared the news: "Vulpea Dynasty Wiped Out in Tragic Crash—Only Heir Left Behind." The world outside was still reeling from the loss, but inside the towering glass walls of this estate, all Lucian had to deal with was a screaming baby.

Lucian wasn't built for this. A devil by nature, chef by occupation, and bound to the Vulpea by a contract older than time itself, he'd never once imagined himself responsible for a child. He'd handled high-stakes dinners, catered events, and even thwarted the occasional assassination attempt, but… diapers?

The baby's cries grew louder, piercing the stillness of the mansion. Lucian's chef's whites felt stifling, out of place for a task like this, but he wasn't about to strip down for this nonsense.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, staring down at the squirming Aurelia. "How hard can this be?"

He fumbled with the diaper, and just as he thought he had it figured out—splash. Aurelia let out a gurgling sound, and warm wetness hit his arm.

Lucian froze. Slowly, he looked at the tiny creature that had just peed on him.

"I've dealt with demons less annoying than you," he muttered under his breath.

This wasn't working. He was out of his depth. He could handle assassins, con artists, rival billionaires, but a baby? His patience had limits, and he was reaching the edge. Desperate, his eyes caught a piece of paper stuck to the refrigerator. A number scrawled in delicate handwriting—likely from one of the nannies before they left.

It was a hotline. HopeLine. Christian charity or something.

Lucian had never called for help. Not once in his long, damned existence. But this? The situation was becoming dire. He needed someone—anyone—to tell him what to do before he accidentally sold his soul for diaper expertise.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number.

The line rang once, twice, then clicked.

"Hello, this is Seraphina with HopeLine. How can I assist you today?"

Lucian blinked. The voice on the other end was… soothing. Warm. The kind of voice that belonged to someone with a radiant smile, soft eyes, and the patience of a saint—everything he wasn't.

"I, uh—" Lucian cleared his throat, hating how awkward he sounded. "I have a… baby situation."

"A baby situation?" the voice repeated, a hint of amusement in her tone. "What seems to be the problem?"

How did he even explain this? He wasn't exactly dad material.

"The baby won't stop crying. I don't… I'm not sure how to fix it," he admitted, feeling ridiculous. The devil himself, at the mercy of a crying infant.

"Oh," the woman said gently, the smile evident in her voice now. "It sounds like she might need a change. Have you checked her diaper?"

Lucian stared down at Aurelia. Wasn't that what he had just done?

"Yes. She… peed on me."

There was a pause, and then the woman—Seraphina—laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but a soft, melodious sound that caught him off guard. Lucian's brow furrowed. Was she laughing at him? He didn't like it. And yet, something about it warmed the cold pit in his chest.

"Well, that's definitely a sign it needs changing," Seraphina said, still chuckling. "Make sure the diaper is snug but not too tight. Sometimes, they cry because they're uncomfortable."

Lucian grunted in response, feeling thoroughly out of his element. He fumbled with the diaper again, carefully following her instructions. When he finally managed to secure it properly, Aurelia stopped crying.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Thanks," he muttered into the phone, barely audible.

"No problem," Seraphina said softly. "Babies are tough, but you're doing just fine."

For a moment, Lucian stood in the middle of the massive kitchen, listening to the soft breaths on the other end of the line. This wasn't what he had expected. He had called for advice, not to be soothed by a stranger's voice. And yet, he felt oddly… calmer.

But this wasn't just a stranger. No, there was something about Seraphina. Something more. Lucian couldn't put his finger on it, but his instincts—his demonic instincts—whispered that this woman wasn't what she seemed.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Seraphina said, breaking the silence. "Feel free to call back if you need more help."

Lucian hesitated. "I might just take you up on that."

After hanging up, Lucian stared down at Aurelia, who had finally drifted off to sleep, completely unaware of the chaos she'd just caused. He should feel relieved, but instead, a new problem gnawed at him.

He was still bound to protect the last Vulpea heir, but this wasn't just about security anymore. The family's lawyer had mentioned something else in their final will—the need for a marriage to solidify Aurelia's claim and protect her from corporate vultures who'd rip her legacy apart.

Lucian didn't have time to think about that, not with everything else falling apart, but there was no denying it: Aurelia needed protection. And somehow, that protection now included marriage.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was the lawyer again.

Lucian glanced at Aurelia, then back at his phone.

"What fresh hell now?" he muttered, swiping the screen to answer.